The Demon's Grave (33 page)

Jordan paused on the last step. “Opposites don’t always attract in the animal kingdom.”

“Awesome, you’re a real wealth of information,” I snapped. “Just another one of Damien’s make-believe bad guys, eh?”

The muscles in Jordan’s shoulders bunched. “Make believe? This is too rich to be a dream.” Jordan leapt at me.

My muscles were prepared, even if they were a little weak. Rolling to the side, I made a clumsy swing that missed by a foot and bounced off the wall next to the bedroom.

My head spun and I realized that Jordan wasn’t going for me.

Instead he grabbed Aidan’s hair, lifting his head off the ground. He smiled at me like a hyena.

“What do you want with Aidan?” I asked, my voice shaking as I crawled to my hands and knees, hoping that the spinning would stop.

Jordan paused, thick fingers positioned on the handle of his knife. “I think I should make him as pretty as me,” he growled softly.

If he’d shouted it, I think I’d have considered it an idle threat, but the low rumble and glint in his eye sent chills down my spine.

Jordan’s eyes trailed from the handle to deadly tip, entranced.

The room was charged with electricity and I could scarcely breathe as the knife hovered over my friend’s face. “
Don’t
,” I hissed, struggling to my feet.

In my rush my head spun out of control. I’d stood too fast. Gasping, I hit the wall, my voice jostling.

I didn’t think after that, just moved.

Stepping forward, I lifted the crucifix over my head and forced it down, using my weight and gravity to form the arc. I knew the knife was tipped to Aidan’s hairline but couldn’t risk watching the bloodletting even if it meant I might make things worse.

The corner of the stone collided between Jordan’s shoulder and neck.

Crying out he swung the beefy arm holding the knife at me. I swung the cross like a baseball bat and miraculously caught his forearm before being gutted.

Howling, Jordan ducked to avoid another blow and swatted at my wrist with his free arm. My grip on the crucifix wasn’t as firm as I’d hoped.

Flying from my grip it landed near the couch and the collision with his arm threw me back at the wall on shaky legs.

As I fell back, the blade glimmered past my stomach, almost snagging my shirt.

That was close.

I didn’t check for damages, I was too busy flailing for balance and to retrieve my weapon again. As I staggered past Jordan and Aidan, I saw the knife again as Jordan rolled to his feet. I also saw the glassy, hot hatred. It was like Jordan wasn’t seeing a person but a cold-blooded enemy.

Ducking, I scooped up the crucifix and twisted in time to see Jordan swing at me. I was forced to back away, keeping my arms up to avoid a slash.

The couch caught the back of my knees and I tumbled into the cushions, narrowly avoiding another volatile swing of the blade. From the lack of pain I could only assume that I wasn’t cut.

Moving fast, I grabbed the candlestick on the coffee-table and stabbed blindly at the looming figure. It was a surprise the candle remained lit in the swing.

Pressing my back to the cushions, I held the flame before Jordan’s face, gritting my teeth and awaiting the pain. His arms were longer and I couldn’t back away any farther.

To my surprise, he stepped back looking angrier. My insides shook, but I kept a firm grip on both of my weapons as I scooted to the edge of the cushions. I glanced at the knife. If I could knock it out of his hands, I could have it.

Seeing my gaze, Jordan flashed teeth in a ferocious grin. “Not going to happen, sweetie. If you’re done playing girlfriend, I have a carving to finish.”

Turning to the side to keep me in sight, he edged toward the limp, pale form on the floor.

“Aidan!” I shouted.
Please let him wake up
. “Don’t sleep Aidan. The door is at the top of the stairs!”

On the floor, behind Jordan, Aidan’s wild hair stirred. Maybe he was coming to.

Seeing my distraction, Jordan dove at me.

I wasn’t ready this time and ducked.

Rolling off the couch, I dropped to my hands and knees and heard Jordan crash on the couch.

I was careful not to move the still-lit candle holder but the pause proved to be a mistake. A flying boot from the couch knocked into my hip.

The hard shove sent me sprawling. The candlestick skidded out of my hands, as I landed on my stomach. I still gripped the crucifix and could feel it grinding between my lower ribcage and the floor.

As I tugged to pull it free I felt the oppressive weight cover my entire back. Gasping in a breath, I realized it was Jordan. Turning my head, I felt the muscular forearm pressing down on the side of my face, attempting to crush it into the carpet. The glass skeleton key reminded me of its presence in my pocket when it ground into my hipbone.

Don’t get caught
, Damien’s warning echoed, instilling fear.

I wheezed for a breath. It was almost impossible with my chest being ground into the shag carpet. As I wriggled, I wondered when I’d feel the knife. How bad would it hurt? I’d never been stabbed before. I tried to pull out the stone which was jammed between my ribs and the floor. I needed to have something to swing back if Jordan’s head came into my peripherals.

Blinking back the headache that Jordan’s pressing arm caused, I could see Aidan’s still figure

I had to think of a better plan, I realized. In pain and trying to reserve energy, I stopped struggling. I needed to analyze a move that would get me somewhere instead of just tiring myself out. One thing was clear, I wasn’t going to be able to haul Aidan up those stairs with Jordan chasing me. I had to knock him out somehow.

One hand fumbled at the back of my shorts. He gripped them so his grimy fingers were inside the waistline at my side and he tugged, hard.

The waist of my jean shorts dug into the opposite hip and I felt the branding fear.

“Aidan!” I shouted, hoping he’d wake up, but he remained motionless by the stairs, face turned away from me.

Pulling harder at the cross where it had wedged between my belly and the carpet, my wrist twisted until it hurt too much to continue. I didn’t dare let it go, despite the pain. Overwhelmed, I could hear myself trying to scream, could smell smoke, but everything was starting to blur.

Jordan jerked down on my shorts again. I felt something give in the front and they were pulled halfway down my hips on one side.

Kicking with renewed energy, I felt the heel of my sneaker stab the back of his thigh. I couldn’t let this happen. Part of me wanted to scream for Damien. He’d told me to hide but I couldn’t anymore.

The warmth in my stomach burned and I wondered if I’d vomit again.

Jordan grunted at my sudden kick, his ankles snaking around mine from above, his knees on the outside of my legs. His arm pressing to my ear, the hand letting go of my shorts and started messing around between his crotch and the bare skin of my lower back. He hadn’t even raped me yet and I felt the slimy sickness of being tainted‌—‌used.

I had contemplated dying in the Challenge, I considered being maimed or injured or seeing friends die, but raped?

Don’t let him catch you.

Twisting my head under the arm’s pressure, I looked for the knife and spotted it by his knee. He’d let it go, freed it for me to take.

Grinding my teeth together I shouted and tried to slide beneath him, my free hand reaching. I felt the carpet burning the side of my face as I dragged it under the weight of his arm.

Stretching my fingers as long as they’d extend, I urged the knife closer, pleaded with it. I didn’t want to be helpless again, not like when I was younger.

Jordan grabbed my shorts and tugged again with a growl.

I squealed a protest and stretched my fingertips, feeling the familiar warmth in my gut swirling, charging and igniting within.
I needed that knife.
My wrist, trapped beneath me, felt as if it were about to break in two but I refused to let go of the cross, my only weapon. Ironic. I’d never been very religious in the outside world.

He tugged my shorts half way down my butt. I felt the sharp open zipper of his pants against bare flesh. His hard-on was pressed there, still covered in a fabric. That would give me a few fleeting seconds of hope.

“Does this seem make believe to you?” Foul, hot breath heaved into my ear.

I screamed, the tangled fear escaping with the building warmth within. As it raced down my arm it was like hot ants under my skin. The pain was easily ignored as I called for the knife to extinguish the helplessness.

Nothing was touching the hunting knife when it shuddered on the floor, nudging toward my fingers.

The charge that had started in my stomach danced its way through to my fingertips. It felt as if someone has cracked elastic bands against the tips of each finger. My fingernails ached as if crushed but the knife was only an inch away from my hand.

“What?” Jordan asked and ground his hips into my ass. “
That
?”

I held back the frustrated tears, sniffling back the snot that came with them.

Jordan’s big combat boot lifted from my ankle. He kicked the knife away, sending it clattering into the wall.

While he lifted his foot to kick the knife, it gave me enough time to arch my back and free the stone crucifix.

Twisting like a corkscrew, I swung in a wild arc.

I missed with the stone but I connected with my elbow. Every ounce of shame and fury at his attempt exploded with the peculiar warmth within. The pressure on the side of my face released the moment my elbow made contact with his temple.

I watched his brown eyes shake inside his mangled head. For a moment, his eyes glazed, distancing him.

I was able to roll onto my hip and his body flopped off of mine with a groan.

Sitting up, I used the momentum and swung the stone, missing him by almost a foot. My aim was completely disorientated but the damage I’d done had almost ended it all.

Coiling away from me, Jordan went for his knife on his stomach.

On my knees, I grabbed for my shorts, self-consciously jerking them and my underwear back where they belonged.

The adrenaline coursed and seethed. I didn’t recognize anything I did. I just moved.

Following him, I batted the stone across the back of his head. I heard the cracking impact as he fell into the couch. Knife in hand, he stabbed a hole into the cushions, the tearing sound reminding me that that could be my flesh instead.

The sound fueled enough rage to keep me upright and wouldn’t allow my shaky legs to buckle. While his back was still to me, I swung the stone again, catching him mid-spine. He shouted and stood to make a grab for me.

I was too close and his arm snagged me in the jaw.

I had little sense of where I was falling. Dots trailed through my vision before I realized I was on the floor and the warmth in my belly had evaporated. The strength I had left faded.

This was it. I had lost.

The smell of smoke had grown stronger and I glanced up to see the metal neck of the candle holder. Dots played games in front of my eyes and I lifted the holder slower than I wished. The candle hadn’t broken and its flame still flickered. I considered that it could have been protected by an invisible shield, like the one in the witch’s window.

Jordan turned to stab at me without looking, his expression livid until the flame of the candle caught on his camo-pants. Licking the material it curled up his knee. I realized it had done the same to the edge of the carpet on the far side of the living room, near the wall, though those flames weren’t nearly as greedy as the ones that had Jordan’s leg.

Dropping the knife, he swatted at the hungry flames with both of his hands.

Rolling onto my hands and knees, I felt the heat above my head.

Curling my fingers around the heavy handle of the discarded knife I got onto my knees. Gripping the handle with both hands, I lunged at the closest thing to me, Jordan’s thigh. The blade entered almost to the hilt and the handle jabbed my ribcage.

He screamed in gruff surprise, the sound quickly morphing into pain.

Jordan swung a beefy hand at me, knocking my knife grip loose and I fell into the side of the couch.

Blinking, I could feel heat at my feet and tried to clear the haze in my head. Wrenching away from me, Jordan flailed to remove the knife, stepping directly into the spreading flames. Greedily, they rose in a feeding frenzy.

The opposite side of the old couch began to crackle as the fire caught the corner. Groaning, I tried to get up, every muscle was protesting and I collapsed back onto the carpet.

The heat against my calves alerted me that it was either succumb to exhaustion or get Aidan up the stairs before the fire spread. Jordan was distracted at least.

As I crawled on my stomach, my arms and legs were laced with lead and the healing bite on my knee ached, along with my jaw, where Jordan hit me.

A lifetime passed before I reached Aidan, it seemed.

He was still conscious, but barely. He blinked at me, attempting to clear the blood from his eyes. “What…‌?”

“Get up, I can’t help you,” I demanded. It was true. I wouldn’t be able to half carry him again. We were on our own this time.

I tried to stand, falling on my first attempt. My jaw throbbed, it hurt to speak but I screamed at Aidan anyway, hoping he could hear me over Jordan’s horrific screams. “Get up or…‌” I decided to poke at the hero in him. “Or I’ll be alone in this Challenge because you left me!”

Shame, shame, double shame
.

The fire was spreading behind me and Jordan was spinning on the carpet in a fiery ball, spreading the flames. It was only a matter of time before he spotted us near the stairs. The distinct smell of burning hair and skin prodded my gag reflex.

I had never smelled burning flesh before. It was similar to cooking meat and, mixed with burning hair, made it hard to take a breath with gagging or choking.

I wobbled to my feet, Aidan crawled to his, and wavered in a Frankenstein-fashion as he took each step.